


Blinded By Desire

by CinnamonRollHughDancy (aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm)



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Closer AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nigel is in denial, Spacedogs, Two Shot, UST, adam in drag, but so gay for adam, horny nigel, idk - Freeform, maybe butt sex in a future, or crossdressing, past charlie/adam, past nigel/gabi, probably, stripper!Adam, the pink wig, they're both dorks, this is a mess, weird falling in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm/pseuds/CinnamonRollHughDancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That reminds me, I don’t think should have told you all that. We’re supposed to keep it professional”</p><p>“Adam, darling, we already met on that fucking gross art gallery. Not to mention your shitty ass boyfriend has been fucking my wife behind my back for god knows how long. We were talking about it almost fifteen minutes ago when you brought up the subject oh so sensibly. The harm’s already done and fucking dealt with. If avoiding the fucking elephant in the room is what you wanted, you probably shouldn’t have fucking shot it in the fucking head”<br/>------------------------------------<br/>A.K.A THAT CLOSER AU NOBODY ASKED FOR</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinded By Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a trainwreck. And also my first spacedogs fic, funny that the thing that finally inspired me to write about this very cute couple was the movie Closer that I hadn't watched until a week ago and omg did I love it. The dialogues are just simply put amazing, I seriously love it and it inspired me so much. Maybe I'll write another part but with hannigram. Anyway hope you enjoy this and stay tuned for the second chapter ;)

Heartbreak and jealousy are a funny combination. Separated, they’re very lethal in their own right but together? It’s a living inferno.

That is something Nigel had come to learn in light of recent events-the piercing, mind numbing ache where his traitorous heart rested, hidden between the crevices of his ribcage, the sudden heavy weight of the silver band on his ring finger, the way his eyes were capable of filling up like a goddamn water show and the pitiful sounds that escaped him, those whimpers and gasps he never thought he could make. That was heartbreak for Nigel. Jealousy was a little bit different altogether. For him, it was the rage, the indignation, the flood of blood and the bloodthirsty cries of the betrayed as he imagined his hands around a certain Charlie Countryman’s neck, cutting off his air supply for the rest of eternity.

His line of thought was interrupted when he entered the strip club, harsh multicolored lighting left him reeling and blind for a second. White dots danced before his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he was able to make out his darling’s-his gorgeous, precious, back stabbing slut, Gabi- silhouette. Her red hair fanned her circular face like a halo, her light baby blues (pools of sky and hope he had spent days committing to memory) shadowed by dark bags under them, clasped hands (one hand suspiciously devoid of the promise that bound them together) on her lap; she had looked so beautiful and so raw it left him speechless, even as she said the words that would destroy him entirely.

_‘Till death do us apart, darling Gabi’ he’d growled, a bitter reminder of the good life ‘Till death do us fucking apart’_

_‘I know’ she’d answered ‘I’m sorry’_

She wasn’t. Not really.

Nigel hadn’t seen it coming. He should have. The signs were there. She was reluctant in the bedroom, more so out of it and when he had her, ankles crossed against his back, nails sinking in his shoulder, she closed her eyes and moaned with her smooth visage turned from him. Kisses on his cheek and neck were scarce, she recoiled from his touch as if he was made of lava and she would burn at contact. It drove him insane each time it happened. Now that he knew the reason why, it made him want to pummel a wall using his bare fists.

It was all he could see, pushing his way through the crowd, uncharacteristically unfocused on the sight of near naked sensuous female figures moving on top of the many stages. That faggot Charlie, putting his dirty, soiled hands all over his wife’s body, seducing her, making her his, fucking her from behind (Gabi had admitted oh so innocently everything she had done with him) on his fucking house, on his fucking couch, on fucking places he knew nothing about. It was all he could see.

How Nigel wanted to kill that bastard.

He walked faster, shoulders bumping constantly with other passerby’s shoulders. The smell of sweat, alcohol and sex tangled and mingled in the intoxicating air and normally Nigel would have enjoyed it, at the moment though it made him feel miserable, made him picture situations he didn’t want to picture at all. Who was he kidding? Thinking that coming to this shithole would even out the scales had been foolish and childish, Gabi was still leaving him for that cocksucker Countryman, nothing was gained by being there. It changed absolutely nothing.

A song flowing from the speakers spoke about having more wit, a better kiss, a better touch, a better fuck than any boy an imaginary girl would meet and honestly, wasn’t Nigel fucking blessed?

Then, among the upbeat music, chattering people, dancers and shitty lights, he saw him.

Standing alone at the bar was a young man wearing a fucking white translucent baby doll (what the actual fuck?), shaved legs covered in also white frilly stockings that barely reached his mid thighs and his feet were adorned in red stilettos at least five inches tall but what actually drew the most attention towards him was the ridiculous pink wig on his head. The same head that turned sideways one second later and met Nigel’s gaze over one wiry shoulder.

The Romanian’s breath evacuated out of his lungs so quickly he almost thought someone had knocked him right there.

He recognized him. It was the same boy he had met at the Art Exhibit. It was the (beautiful) weeping face he had seen on a photo that day. It was Adam Raki, Charlie’s fucking ex boyfriend, who was now staring at him from the other side of the room, wearing sexy lingerie and looking completely out of place in a random strip club.

Fucking bingo.

In auto pilot, Nigel began walking straight to the bar, without a single clue about what he was going to do.

* * *

 

“How much for a private dance?”

Adam blinked. He made a point of burning holes on a point on the far wall over the man’s head, avoiding eye contact. The man’s voice was rough, husky and accented. Probably European. From what he had glimpsed previously, Adam could tell he had sharp features, high cheekbones, thin lips, a few scars here and there and a tattoo of a woman on the side of his neck. He was oddly handsome.

Adam knew him. This was Gabi Ibanescu’s husband. Ex husband.

He bit his bottom lip as he remembered Charlie’s saddened expression, telling him he was sorry but he just did not love him anymore and his own confusion concerning the entire mess. Had he done something wrong? Was he not enough? He had asked at first, then he had screamed in an unexplainable explosion of emotions because Charlie lied to him. Lied to him when he had promised two years ago that he would never lie to Adam.

“E-excuse me?” He asked again. He had to be sure. Usually, no one asked for him, rare was the occasion a man or a woman showed interest in him. Outside and inside the club.

“I said” the man repeated “how much for a fucking private dance?”

“It depends on what the customer wants” Adam winced slightly at the bad word.

His feet hurt and the underwear itched in places he never thought he could itch. It was annoying. He wished the night would just end already so he could go home (his empty home), eat his Mac n’ Cheese and watch the Actor’s Studio for a little while before heading off to sleep.

Looking at the man briefly in the eyes, he said “Follow me, please” like he was taught and guided the stranger to the closest ‘Paradise Suit’. He still did not know why the rooms were called like that; there was nothing heavenly or sacred about them. But it was okay, after all, that was not the question that kept him up at night.

* * *

 

“So” Nigel threw himself on the soft cushions once he stepped inside the booth “Just so we’re clear, I’m not a fucking faggot”.

Adam was sitting on top of the small stage in the middle of the small space slightly hunched over, feet dangled over the edge. This close up, Nigel got an eyeful of the boy currently occupying his attention. He was slight, lithe and long limbed but wiry enough that he could pull off wearing woman’s clothes and look good in them-hard angles, square jaw, flat surfaces and the bulge in those indecent frilly panties made it impossible to mistake him for someone of the female persuasion.

Nigel still found himself eying wistfully the muscular thighs, the way those sinful stockings braced the skinny legs, the pink nipples hardening beneath the see-through material…

Adam canted his pale throat to the right, like a bird, the wig swinging with the movement “Oh. Okay” he sounded monotone, bored even yet the blonde somehow detected there was some real curiosity there. Most likely, the kid wanted to ask why had he demanded a dance if he was nothing but straight. For the sake of honesty, Nigel was wondering the exact same thing; he was used to acting on impulse, to trust in his gut but this (whatever this was) was unprecedented, crazy, nuts, pure nonsense.

Getting restless, Nigel muttered the first thing that came to his mind “Can’t you take that fucking thing off?”

“What thing? You mean my clothes?”

Adam fingered the elastic straps of the baby doll, tone robotic and nonplussed and for some fucked up reason Nigel felt the blood rushing south.

“No, for fuck’s sake, I meant that awful wig”

“Yes, I can”

They stared at each other for what felt like hours and Nigel noticed that the kid’s eyes were an actual pretty shade of blue, big, wide and too trusting for this line of work. Some glitter on his eyelids sparkled under the lights and Nigel wondered two things: one, what the fuck was he doing and two, what the FUCK was he doing.

Adam gave no sign of responding. Could he have possible misunderstood Nigel?

His brow furrowed, he motioned with one hand “Take that fucking thing off, then. It freaks me out”

A flash of recognition flashed in Adam’s eyes, shiny red lips pulled open forming a small ‘o’-maybe it was an involuntary reaction-and shit, the blue eyed boy was wearing lipstick too (not that Nigel was staring or anything) and did as he was told, revealing the mop of brown curls underneath.

Much better.

Which brought up another question that had been bothering Nigel for a while now.

“Why the fuck are you dressed like that anyway?”

Tonight was a night of questions, it seemed.

The stripper’s nose scrunched up a bit “You curse too much. Why do you have to curse in every sentence you use?”

“It’s a cultural thing”

“Is it? Where are you from? It is often believed that people who curse frequently are not trustworthy”

“I’m from Romania,” Nigel strangely conceded this piece of information “and do you believe me to not be fu-trustworthy?”

“I don’t believe you to be anything” Adam said sincerely “I don’t know you and you don’t know me”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, kid”

Adam frowned, not liking where the conversation was going “I’m not a kid. I’m 29 years old”

Nigel shrugged “Way fucking younger than me. And you still haven’t answered my question”

“Which one?”

This boy, Adam Raki, was fucking strange, Nigel decided. Literal and blunt as a razor, he needed things to be stated directly, no beating around the bushes with this one. The Romanian liked that.

“Why are you fucking cross-dressing, darling?”

Adam looked down at himself, startled by the cursing and the pet name being in the same sentence “My coworkers told me it was cross-dressing day for male strippers”

Never mind that Adam was the only male stripper he had seen doing the actual thing. He wanted to say something about it but chose not to. Instead, he simply nodded.

“I see”

“¿Why…” Adam started, frown returning promptly “Why did you ask?” same dead intonation, his expression changed minimally to what Nigel thought was concern and perhaps, this kid did have emotions despite what first appearances suggested.  The question was charged, like it meant a lot to him “Was I not supposed to wear this? Or do I look bad-?”

“No” Nigel cut him off so quickly even he was surprised “No,” he said more slowly “you look fine, I guess, if that’s the shit you’re into. I was just fucking curious”

Adam hummed, apparently satiated with the answer and jumping right in to another topic “I still think you curse too much”

Nigel wasn’t ready for what came out of Adam’s mouth then “Maybe that is why she left you” Innocent, completely lacking ill intent, Adam Raki said the fucking words Nigel wanted to hear the least for the what was left of his time on the fucking Earth.

Teeth gritted, his hands clawed dangerously at the fabric of his pants. Nigel believed himself to be a good judge of character and taking into account what he had seen of Adam so far, he knew the kid didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Yeah he had a weird attitude, he talked like an old man and couldn’t take a hint if it hit him in the middle of the forehead but he was honest. And honesty was something Nigel appreciated a big fucking deal. It was refreshing in a way, especially after dealing with-

Had this been any other night, he might have let it slide. Because he genuinely liked Adam.

However, this night, all Nigel saw was red and betrayal.

He invaded Adam’s space in the blink of an eye (it could all turn to blood in the blink of an eye)- stopping one inch from his face-his nose almost brushing with Adam’s, the proximity allowed him to feel Adam’s breath hot and humid on his cheek, see his pupils dilate in a sea of blue. His hands were on opposite sides of the younger man’s hips (how they got there, Nigel didn’t know), effectively caging him in case he realized how unfavorable the situation had gotten. That did not seem to be the case. Adam didn’t even flinch. Only roved his eyes over some point below Nigel’s own and settled for staring at his cheekbone intently.

“What the fuck did you say?” the blonde growled and Adam trembled mildly “Would you mind fucking repeating that last bit? I don’t think I fucking heard you”

One slim finger reached up to tuck away a stray curl from Adam’s forehead. It went back to its previous position instantly and Nigel wanted-as mad and irrationally angry that he was-, had the urge to touch. He gave a moment to consider he was losing his mind here, in this secluded booth, breathing the same air and sharing the same space with an actual being who had, at some fucked up point, sucked fucking Countryman’s cock with those full, cherry red lips and yet again the mental image was enough to increase his aggressiveness for he could not stop himself from eyeballing the stripper’s mouth and imagining the things that had gone inside it.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ he cursed mentally, _this was madness._

Adam, unsuspecting kid that he was, didn’t read the atmosphere and kept put in his spot like this kind of stuff happened to him daily. Not truly getting that Nigel was mental and dangerous and that if he regrettably made the mistake of saying the wrong thing he’d twist his slender pale neck, Adam recited “You curse too much. Maybe that’s why she left you”.

The Romanian froze up in mute astonishment directed at the ridiculous creature in front of him but before he could retaliate in either verbal or physical violence, Adam continued like he was reading from a book “I’ve read people often dislike it when others use an excessive amount of expletives in normal, day to day conversation. It is considered rude and offensive and it has been argued whether the frequent use of them determines a person’s background or the quality of their upbringing”

Then, Adam proceeded to explain to Nigel how normal social interactions worked as if it was completely okay and not indecent at all to talk this close to another guy (Nigel shook his head when it dawned on him what a compromising picture the two of them made and thanked god no one could see them like this. He would probably get arrested for sexual harassment or whatever. Which was a very stupid thing to think since last time he checked, he was at a whore house and Adam was no blushing virgin, albeit looking like he had just hit puberty) or like he was fucking retarded and instead of focusing on important shit, what Nigel chose to focus on was the small, little detail that Adam’s breath happened to smell like mint, temptation and everything he should not want, never thought he’d want.

He choked on his own saliva and felt torn between laughing and tearing his useless eyes out. It could all turn to blood in the blink of an eye, yes, but it could turn to shit too.

Throat dry as sandpaper, he ultimately found his voice to hiss, interrupting Adam mid-speech “If you’re such an expert on fucking relationships, why did he leave you?”

He almost regretted his viciousness when Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, a small gasp escaped his throat.

Almost.

Still Adam did not retreat “I’m not an expert” he admitted humbly “but at least I’m trying to…understand” he trailed off, unable to express properly in the way he wanted to. Nigel could relate.

A beat of silence.

“I don’t know” a soft whisper, one Nigel wouldn’t have heard had it not been for their closeness and at last, Adam held his burning gaze full on.

For the second time that night, Nigel was speechless. There, in those blue orbs, Nigel saw a reflection of himself: a man filled with so much passion, so much raw feelings and yet, was wholly terrible at showing them or simply was incapable of reaching others with them. But he reached Nigel. In one glance he reached him and gave him a taste of what was hidden beyond that deceiving cold exterior, showed him his piercing pain. A hurt that mirrored Nigel’s own.

“I don’t know why he left me”

In that moment, they were nothing more than two lost men seeing (recognizing) each other like it was the first time and Nigel’s heart thumped heavy against his ribcage as he witnessed the overwhelming sense of being lost clouding Adam’s demeanor.  He wanted to tell Adam he understood, he understood very well. He couldn’t do it, though. His vocal chords refused to cooperate, strung up on emotions that had threatened to choke him since this whole mess began.

“But… he said… he told me it was because she didn’t need him”

“She doesn’t need him” the smile that appeared upon his lips was small and tight, and that was how Nigel knew it was faked. Practiced, a robot going through the motions, giving his best shot at pretending to be human.

“And that is everything”

He gave up. When his hand moved unbidden to rest on top of a less rugged one, he didn’t try to stop it. However, Adam did. The kid recoiled from him, raising his hand fast as lightning and almost hitting Nigel on the face with the back of it.

“You can’t touch me” the stripper muttered slightly alarmed.

Nigel ignored him.

“Why the fuck would he say that?” he asked instead, somehow desperate to hear his answer.

“Because I’m ‘high maintenance’. Or so Beth said. Just not in the way you might think. I have this condition you see, it’s called Asperger Syndrome”

“Alright. I have two questions. One, the actual fuck is that? And two, so fucking what?”

Adam could have been speaking in another language, for all Nigel knew of that condition of his. He’d thought he had heard the term used by one of his men a while ago but he didn’t remember a single thing about that conversation.

“It’s inside the spectrum-the Autistic spectrum that is. Basically, I have difficulties concerning social interactions and non verbal communication. I find it very challenging to understand or infer how other people are feeling and because of that I don’t get sarcasm or phrases with double meaning. It’s very hard for me to put myself in other people’s shoes. Which is, by the way, a saying that I don’t understand either. Why would I want to wear shoes that are not mine? It’s unsanitary, not to mention it’s unlikely they’d be my size”

“Huh”

Well, that little piece of information put everything in perspective for Nigel, every interaction they had until that moment was starting to make sense. From his bluntness, to his awkwardness and inability to read the mood and why he hadn’t sensed the danger in Nigel’s actions just before. This Asperger Syndrome thing, it was the main cause for what other people might label as ‘weirdness’. For Nigel it was the main cause for Adam’s continued survival (asides from those fluttering eyelashes and Nigel was screwed).

A thought caught him by surprise “So why is someone like you working in a place like this?” Shit, it came out wrong, that was not what he wanted to say.

“Are you trying to be rude? Someone like me can do whatever they want” His tone was icier in a way and Nigel winced. Disapproval from Adam affected him more than anyone he had ever met and he didn’t even know him that well.

“Fucking-fuck, no. That is not what I meant. I just… doesn’t all this bother you?” He motioned vaguely “You know, the lights, the noise, the crowd… And you’re fucking smart from what I can tell . You could be working in better places than this fuckhole”

“Actually, I had a panic attack the first time I came here.  Beth helped me get through it though. I wouldn’t have obtained the job had it not been for her”

“And Beth is…”

“My ex girlfriend. Elizabeth Buchwald. She works here. After a month without a job she was the one who helped me find a new one because I was about to lose my apartment. She said it would be good for me since talking is not my best defining feature and this profession does not require much talking precisely”

Nigel wanted to make a remark very badly about that part that included the words “Beth” and “ex girlfriend”. If only he could pick up his jaw from the goddamn floor, that would be helpful. Not that he needed to appear like an intelligent, capable of speech, functional human being. Of fucking course not.

“Wait a second. Do I need to fucking pay if I’m just talking to you?” he grumbled when he managed to get his mouth to work again.

“No, but a tip would be appreciated”

“That your catchphrase, Raki?” The Romanian damned it all to hell as he pulled out his wallet from his pocket, Adam bending backwards to avoid getting touched accidentally. He tried slipping a few bills in one of Adam’s stockings but he was having none of it. He grabbed them himself and made a show of putting them there on his own. Nigel snorted. What a little fucking tease and with a sense of humor as well.

Adams lips turned a fraction upwards and Nigel mirrored him, kind of hoping he was in fact smiling and not grimacing or something just as awful “May I touch you?” he asked, because he was weak and stupid and he was heartbroken and Adam was to pretty, too beautiful despite being a man and he was confusing as he was interesting, keeping Nigel’s attention when nothing else had. Because when he smiled, he felt warm inside and he felt the spark of potential electrifying and strong between them and he needed to touch those sharp collarbones with his lips or he would have a literal heart attack.

“You may not” he retreated and stood up with those lithe limbs of his, staring Nigel down with fathomless blue pools.

“C’mon don’t be like that. We’re not just some strangers to each other, are we?”

Nigel would have shot himself in the face had he been in the right state of mind for spewing such sleazy bullshit. Usually, he ran much more smoothly through these scenarios but he had drank his own weight in cheap bear and the thoughts in his head didn’t make much sense asides from being a mess of words like ‘sexuality crisis’, ‘Adam’, ‘Gabi cheating whore’, ‘Adam’s lips’, ‘Adam’s legs’, ‘totally not gay for this kid’, ‘no fucking homo’, ‘NIPPLES SHIT’.

“You might be right” Adam consented “But at the moment you’re a client, and clients are not allowed to touch. This is not a brothel”

Nigel would have argued (he had seen his fair share of illicit activities going on here) but he didn’t feel like pushing it. He’d wait.

“What the fuck ever”

“That reminds me, I don’t think should have told you all that. We’re supposed to keep it professional”

“Adam, darling, we already met on that fucking gross art gallery. Not to mention your shitty ass boyfriend has been fucking my wife behind my back for god knows how long. We were talking about it almost fifteen minutes ago when you brought up the subject oh so sensibly. The harm’s already done and fucking dealt with. If avoiding the fucking elephant in the room is what you wanted, you probably shouldn’t have fucking shot it in the fucking head”

“That… makes sense”

“Yes, it does”

He reclined against the back of his seat so he could look (ogle) at Adam better “Which brings me to my next point: Charlie Shitface is a miserable bastard for leaving you. May Hell save him a quiet and calm resting place on top of a burning hot furnace”

“Why a furnac-?”

“I haven’t finished. I can say though the image of that thing dying in flames sounds very appealing. Anyway, I wanted to say you’re an idiot if you think that because you’re different, it somehow justifies the son of a bitch for going around mounting others people’s wives. You’re better than that, well, even trash is better than that scum but you get what I mean?”

Yes, Nigel was drunk as fuck.

A melodic sound reached his eardrums and it took him a moment to realize it was Adam Fucking Raki’s laugh; eyes squinted, dimples flaring on his cheeks, a healthy blush on his cheekbones and holy shit he was laughing. His shoulders shook with the vibrations as he glanced at Nigel under his lashes.

“I was confused at first but I think I get what you mean, Nigel. Thank you”

“You have the face of a fucking angel”

Suddenly Adam stopped laughing. As soon as it began, it came to an end.

Nigel broke into a sweat. Fuck, he made things awkward. He would have loved to blame it on anything else but his conscious self except a bigger part of him didn’t want to take it back. It wasn’t a lie. It was maybe the truest sentence he had said in the entire fucking night and he didn’t regret it. Not now when he was looking into those widened eyes, counting the small freckles on the bridge of his nose and experiencing the phantom feeling of tasting, licking the barely noticeable layer of perspiration on milk white skin.

Maybe he kind of was a little gay.

The blond was kind of expecting Adam to freak or to tell him off, anything but the sad little shake of his head that he got and the sad little grin that looked completely misplaced on that sweet face. “That’s not true, don’t lie. I hate lies”

“I’m not lying” Nigel denied.

“Of course you are. Generally, I’m not considered attractive. I know that. I’m aware of how others purposely avoid me if they can and those that don’t; they don’t really see me as attractive.”

“Well fuck them. This is coming from me, not anybody else, and you’re fucking hot Adam Raki. I shouldn’t have said that thing about angels cause’ they pale in comparison and all that corny stuff”

“In fact,” he began to say and Nigel understood  even before he finished formulating the sentence, he was going to want to crawl under a rock at the bottom of the ocean once he did “show me. Show me what you were hired to do”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And feel free to talk to me about anything (it's not like I'm lonely or anything pffffffff yeah right. Ok yes I'm desperate, isn't that how we all writers are anyway?).
> 
> P.S: KUDOS AND COMMENTS FEED MY PET TURTLE SO DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE THEM BEHIND


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